


Can't walk away

by orphan_account



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Comeplay, Incest Kink, M/M, Overstimulation, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 13:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15886689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Title from Epa wei by Danny Ocean





	Can't walk away

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Epa wei by Danny Ocean

Ryans fingers slide in so easy now. Dylan's panting, head hanging down, hole still twitching with his orgasm, but he still rocks back just a bit onto Ryan's fingers. 

Fucking pretty sight. Ryan's never going to get over how Dylan's asshole looks with Ryan's come leaking out. It’s weird because cream pies have never done it for him -- just this. 

He flutters his finger, gently, almost a tickle, against Dylan's prostate and Dylan keens. Ryan can feel how hot he is inside, thinks about licking him out again, or sliding back in. 

"Ryan," Dylan murmurs, voice all husky, well used. "Ryan, c'mon. Need more. C'mon."

Ryan chuckles. "Jeez, you’re such a slut, Dyls." He slides up the bed, pushes his cock in smoothly as he pulls his fingers out. He lingers there at the rim, feeling himself surrounded by Dylan, in Dylan. 

"This enough?" He whispers, hot against Dylan's nape. He's barely moving, just little nudges with his hip. Dylan whines like he's being taken apart, broken into new configurations. Ryan leans back to watch himself going in and out, starts pumping deeper, and he knows the feeling.  
He reaches around with one hand and grazes Dylan's cock up and down with his knuckles, the tips of his fingers. Dylan gets sensitive just after coming, can't take more than that. The way he curses, under his breath as if to hide his blasphemy, Ryan thinks Dylan isn't going to need more than that, this time. 

"S'ok, baby boy," Ryan mutters into his shoulder, too embarrassed to say loudly, too sexy not to say. "Dyls. I gotcha. We're not going anywhere. Just," he tugs, teasingly, "c'mon. Yeah, yeah, God, like that."

Dylan's whimpering and whining continually now. Pushing himself back onto Ryan, forward into Ryan's grasp, over and over, RyanRyanRyan almost a meaningless word.

Ryan smirks, pulls back until he's holding Dylan by the hips, and starts fucking as slow and deep as he knows how. Dylan will have bruises on top of bruises tomorrow in the shape of Ryan's pelvic bones, his hands. 

They keep that rhythm for something that feels like hours, sore and aching from earlier rounds and needing more, always more. Dylan goes from needing to needy to incoherent, and Ryan's brain just can't get over this, this fucking his baby brother. Dylan letting him. Begging him. 

Ryan's thinking of flipping Dylan over, sucking him down after, when Dylan suddenly tightens all around him, little surprised scream -- actual scream -- punching out of his lips as he comes, just like that, on Ryan's cock. Shooting all over the blankets, hands buried under the pillow somewhere, Ryan's hands bracketing his ass cheeks. Ryan groans, loses it, white heat and Dylan and that's all he needs, that's all he ever needs.


End file.
